


Father Figure

by B_Cubbins



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: Age Difference, Codependency, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hero Worship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Power Imbalance, Praise Kink, Slow Build, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27890398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_Cubbins/pseuds/B_Cubbins
Summary: In the absence of her own father, Annie January looks to the public image of Homelander as a surrogate. When she finally meets him, things aren't exactly what she imagined.
Relationships: The Homelander | John/Starlight | Annie January
Comments: 56
Kudos: 80





	1. I will be your father figure

'Annie, sweetie, sit back. You'll hurt your eyes.'

Eight year old Annie January rolls the eyes in question and begrudgingly scoots backwards--a fraction of an inch.

Her mother scoffs, but ceases her reprimands, recognizing that she's fighting a losing battle. When 'Avenue Seven' is on there is no moving Annie from her customary spot on the rug before the television.

With one last disapproving head-shake, Donna leans back on the couch, resigning herself to perusing the latest issue of 'Vought Weekly'. But before she can turn a page, she is promptly interrupted by Annie shaking her knee and pointing frantically at the TV. 

'Mom, Mom look! It's him!'

Donna looks up to see Homelander flicker on their moderately sized television screen. He's standing on what is clearly a sound stage painted to look like a street corner. Colorful posters of his team-mates are plastered on the building set pieces behind him. 

His back is turned to the viewer, he seems to be examining a poster of Mister Marathon. 

'Oh hello, I didn't see you there!' The hero turns around with a comically startled expression ; dark eyebrows raised in feigned surprise. 

Annie giggles and leans against her mother's legs. She twirls a strand of blonde her hair around her finger as she watches rapturously. 

'I'm the Homelander--do you know what my job is?'

Starlight sits straighter; she knows the answer to this! Against her mother's protest, she scoots forward until she's right in front of the television again--her nose practically touching the screen.

'To keep me safe!' she exclaims. 

Homelander pauses for a few seconds, waiting for a response, then nods with an exuberant smile.

'That's right! To keep you safe. 

'Here's another question for you, smarty-pants...what's _your_ job?'

Again, he pauses, waiting for an answer.

Starlight considers his question, giving it serious thought. Her small forehead is creased with contemplation, tongue peaking between her lips in a telltale expression of concentration. She comes up short, thin shoulders sagging in defeat.

'To be a real hero!' he beams, hands finding their usual place on his hips. Annie nods obediently, curling her knees to her chin. _Of course, of course._

'Now, not everyone can fly or lift cars like me, but that doesn't mean you can't be a hero every day in your own way.' 

He proceeds to talk about the heroism of helping an elderly neighbor cross the street, or supporting Vought by buying tickets to the next installment of the VCU. Annie's thoughts trail off as she watches him. She knows she's different from the boys and girls he's speaking to; _She_ really is going to become a true hero someday.

It's only a matter of time.

After all, she exercises every day and she eats all of her vegetables. What else is there to it? She'll keep working hard and doing good, and one day she'll be a part of the Seven. 

It's as simple as that.

She smiles self assuredly, nodding slightly to the flickering Homelander before her in a silent confirmation that they will be team members one day. She'll prove to him how good of a hero she is. 

'...and remember,' Homelander concludes, 'I'll always protect you.' Annie mouths the words in tandem with him, eyes warm with admiration. She leans a little closer to the television screen, one small hand coming up to touch Homelander's warm, staticky image. 

She dimly wonders what he'd feel like to hug. She doesn't know what brings the thought on, but it is followed by another one, equally as unbidden. 

She wonders if Homelander smells like cigarettes and peppermint. 

_Like he did._

She glances at the framed picture of her father resting on the side table beside the couch, then back at Homelander. Although she only faintly remembers what the man in the picture smells like, she still finds the thought of the scent comforting. She'd like to imagine Homelander smells like that. 

That he'd give hugs that ended with him lifting her in a spin.

That he'd ruffle her hair and call her 'squirt', like the dads on TV...

She traces her finger on Homelander's smile and finds herself faintly smiling back. 

'Alright sweetie', Donna shuts her magazine, placing it beside her on the couch. 'That's enough TV for now, it's time to get back to training'

Annie sighs but obediently rises to her feet. 

_'Homelander didn't get to be leader of the Seven by sitting around watching TV!'_ Annie says the words in unison with her mother. She's heard Donna say it so many times, the younger January can imitate it almost perfectly. Her mom playfully swats Annie with the discarded magazine and ushers her outside. 

'Twenty deadlifts with the breezeblocks, then forty laps around the barn!' she calls from the porch. 

As Annie ambles out to the front yard, she looks up at the clouds. The sun is sinking and turning the sky a pleasant shade of pink. She rubs her arms and wonders if somewhere, miles away, Homelander is looking up at the same sky.


	2. Put your tiny hand in mine

_School is a distraction._

Donna says this so frequently that Annie almost begins to believe it. But as she sits at her dining room table, poring over her biology textbook, she realizes how far from the truth that it is. 

She'll never admit it to her mother, but she greatly enjoys her classes and wishes she were allowed dedicate more time to them--But training takes precedence over everything. Annie is frequently pulled from studies to continue her rigorous training schedule and attend various Supe-pageants.

Still, it is a small mercy in itself that Donna has even allowed her to homeschool. It's not _school_ in the strictest sense of the word, but Annie takes what she can get. 

Sometimes, when she's doing her morning workouts in the field behind her house, she sees the faint shape of the tanky yellow school bus, trundling down the dirt road. 

More than once, she's toyed with the idea of sneaking onto it, just to see what real school is like.

Happy Days and the Facts of Life have slowly become her substitution for the highschool experience she is being deprived of. As she watches Joanie Cunningham skip around her living room after being asked to the prom, Annie cannot ignore the painful yearning in her chest. 

When she relays her desires to partake in such activities to her mother, Donna reassures her there will be time for that when she's a real hero. 'Besides,' her mother says in a tone that leaves no room for argument, 'you've got the Capes for Christ kids!'

Annie grimaces weakly at the thought of the youth group. Her teammates, The Young Americans, are far from the lifelong friends that she dreamt of making as a child. No matter how hard she tries, they seem to regard her as inferior and alien. This became especially evident after tonight's mission. 

They had busted a gas-station robbery--standard Friday night crime in Des Moines--and had decided to return to Holy Mary's house afterwards for snacks. 

Somehow the general conversation in the kitchen had veered off to their various sexual escapades. Annie was initially taken aback, considering how intensely the importance of abstinence was preached during their group sermons. Despite this, every team member seemed to have a sticky fumbling to regale the rest of the kitchen with. Annie didn't understand the majority of what was being discussed but the details she did recognize made her ears burn. 

She attempted to tune most of it out, crunching loudly on her carrot sticks by the sink. 

When the conversation eventually turned to her, the kitchen seemed to fall silent instantly. Annie had chosen not to respond, merely shrugging with a shy smile that managed to say more than any words could have. 

Holy Mary had sneered, 'Annie, you're such a little prude--this is why you don't have any friends'

Annie had winced at her teammate's cold words, attempting to hide her hurt behind a weak smile.

She wasn't a prude. After all, she had kissed Drummer Boy all those weeks ago behind the church. Wasn't that something to show for? 

_You also ran home crying when he tried to grope your breast_ , the voice in the back of her mind that sounds irritatingly like Holy Mary niggles. She pushes away the thought and scowls. 

That didn't make her a prude. 

Drummer Boy had leaned in for a kiss and Annie had excitedly reciprocated--just like how the girls on TV did. His lips were somewhat wormy and the kiss was wetter than she had expected but Annie was too happy to care.

But then Drummer Boy had begun roughly pulling at her shirt, grabbing at parts of her that made her want pull away. That didn't feel like what she had seen on TV. 

Being superior in strength to him, she had shoved him off easily and sprinted home--tears blinding her vision. 

Annie clutches her pencil tightly as she remembers this occurrence. She convinces herself this is an isolated incident; her next encounter with a boy will be better. Like how it is on TV.

Closing her textbook, she stands and stretches--pausing to spare a glance at the microwave clock. She groans when she sees the time ; It's close to 1'am. She has to be up at 5 to fit in her morning workout. 

Annie sluggishly gathers her books and binders and heads to her room, her thoughts glumly lingering on Drummer Boy's wandering hands and Holy Mary's cold words. Perhaps her mother is right; perhaps it is better to just focus on her path to true heroism. 

She closes the door to her room behind her, depositing her books on the dresser and collapsing on her bed. She traces her finger over her Seven themed bedsheets, wondering if any of them felt alienated growing up.

She suddenly remembers an interview where in which Maeve revealed that she had been homeschooled growing up--this brings a faint smile to Annie's face. Homelander had once said that he hadn't had any formal education either, nor many friends growing up--and yet he was the leader of the Seven.

Charming, witty, and undoubtedly, the greatest hero in the world. 

Annie is filled with a renewed sense of confidence. She beams, climbing under the covers and reaching for her Homelander Kuddle Buddy. Her mother says she's getting too old to sleep with it, but Annie protests--it doesn't make her any less of a hero to want to hold something soft under her arm at night. She holds its plush body close and falls asleep with a small smile on her face.

That night she dreams of a new future. One with white stars, red stripes and vibrant blue eyes.


	3. I will be your preacher teacher

Vought does not allow teenagers into its staffing--not even interns. An eighteen year old joining the Seven is unheard of.

A-Train had been the youngest hero instated thus far; joining the Seven at 20 after the retirement of the team's former speedster, Mister Marathon. 

But with the positive response of Tek Knight taking on young Laddio as his sidekick and and past successes of youth groups such as Teenage Kix and Super-Duper, Vought has begun to warm to the idea of a younger supe within the Seven. It would be beneficial for audiences within the juvenile age-groups to see someone within the elite team that they could relate to.

Annie's eyes rapidly flit over her laptop screen as she reads all of this information aloud to Donna at their kitchen table. Her fingers tremble while she scrolls through the email. 

'Vought impresses the extraordinary rarity of this opportunity. But then again, you have shown extraordinary potential--that of which Vought cannot ignore. We eagerly await your response.' 

Annie closes the laptop, mouth agape. 

The two January's look at each other and, after another beat of silence, they scream in unison. 

'I can't believe this! You did it, sweetheart!' Donna practically shrieks, jumping up and down with her daughter in a frenzy of glee. Annie squeals and hugs her mom, squeezing her and lifting her into the air with ease. 

' _We_ did it!'

\----

Annie tears through her room, practically vibrating with excitement. She frantically tosses shirts over her shoulder and into her suitcase, haphazardly making split second decisions of what to leave and what to take. She supposes it doesn't really matter--she'll mostly be wearing her suit from now on anyway. That was the first article of clothing she packed, folding it with the utmost care.

By this time tomorrow, she'll be unpacking all of this in her own quarters at Seven Tower! The thought makes her heart race.

She stops her closet massacre for a moment, sitting back on her thighs and forcing herself to take a deep breath--savoring the moment for all that it is worth. She can distantly hear her mother puttering away in the kitchen. Donna had insisted on cooking a big celebratory feast for Annie in honor of the big news. Usually, she is tight-fisted when it comes to what Annie eats-- _'A trim hero is a happy hero!_ \--but this is a very special occasion, so it's mac and cheese and hamburgers tonight. Annie smiles, shaking her head. She'll miss her mother; staunch rules and all. 

Annie gets to her feet, exiting her closet and reentering her room. She takes it in for what will probably be the last time in a long time. She expects to feel sad--that some part of her will miss Des Moines and it's dull charm--but she doesn't. She only feels excitement and elation to leave it all behind. 

She briefly considers packing the only picture of her father that she has in her possession. It is a small, weathered photo, taped to her mirror--half-way shrouded behind one of the many clippings of Homelander and the Seven. 

Fingering the corner of the curling photograph, She decides against it. 

Throughout her life, the man in the crinkled picture had only served as a source of confusion and discomfort to her. She didn't like looking at the image for long periods of time, it made her uncomfortable, cold.

He had made the executive decision, years ago, to separate himself from her. Why? What had she done in her infancy to warrant such a callous decision? Her heart sinks at the thought.

She shakes her head and shifts a clipping of Homelander, effectively covering the photo of her father with the golden hero’s beaming face. 

The thought of beginning her new life with him and the rest of the team renews her excitement tenfold. 

Annie doesn't give the dogeared photo in the mirror a second thought when she hurriedly departs for the airport the next morning.

\----

Annie holds her mother's hand tightly when they enter Seven Tower. Only to calm _her_ down, Annie tells herself--despite the fact that her own hands are the ones trembling. The humongous glass doors slide open and a loud-speaker booms an automated greeting to them, _'Welcome to Seven Tower, Home of the Seven'._

Though she refuses to admit it to her mother, the entire day thus far has left Annie feeling overwhelmed. The barrage of new sights and sounds are a technicolor explosion in comparison to the lusterless monotony of Des Moines. The influx of paparazzi and news reporters outside the tower had been staggering, to say the least. She still cannot fathom that they were all here for _her_ , for plain, skinny little Annie January. 

Still, none of this comes close to being as shocking as what is waiting for her in the tower's lobby.

There, in the middle of the entrance hall, Homelander sits--as clear as day. He reclines languidly in one of the several upholstered chairs positioned in the waiting area, one leg casually crossed over his knee. 

Annie tightens her grip on her mothers hand, so much so that Donna has to tap her on the forearm, 'Annie, sweetie, you're going to break my fingers.' 

Releasing her mothers hand instantly, Annie copiously apologizes. She resists the urge to pinch herself as Homelander stands and begins walking towards them.

'I--I didn't think _you'd_ be here' Annie breathes before she can stop herself. Her eyes stretch wide in disbelief; Homelander is actually here, standing in front of her. Close enough to reach out and touch

He seems taller in person, wider--much more imposing than the smiling hero on the poster's back in her bedroom. Annie shrinks beneath his gaze as he looms over her.

'You're our newest recruit, why on Earth wouldn't I want to come meet you?' His warm voice curls around her, making her legs go weak and her mind grow hazy.

Annie feels her face grow hot under Homelander's attention. 'I just--because, you're...you...The Homelander...' Her voice falters as she trails off quietly. Not trusting herself to look into his face just yet, she settles for staring at his boots. 

Then he laughs and it's like a switch flicks within her. She's eight years old again and he's greeting her on the television, cheerfully laughing in a way that is so familiar to her she would recognize it anywhere. Suddenly feeling relieved, she smiles back, finally mustering enough courage to look into his bright blue eyes. 

'I'm not always _The Homelander_ , sometimes I'm just me'

'It's not _Starlight_ all the time, is it?'

'No, I'm--'Annie quickly scrambles to remember her name, blurting it out in one quick exclamation, 'Annie, Annie January.' 

'Well, welcome to the Seven, Annie January' Homelander smiles, grasping her hand and giving it a firm shake. Annie revels in the warmth of his large grasp, feeling a sudden sense of loss when he lets go.

'You were her absolute favorite growing up, she had a poster the size of you in her closet--

 _'Mom!'_ Annie's cheeks burn with embarrassment. In her initial panic, she had forgotten her mother was still standing beside them. Donna raises her eyebrows in genuine surprise, 'What, honey? It's true! She still sleeps with you're stuffed toy, you know--I can't pry it away from her.' 

Annie stares at the ground in dumb mortification, silently willing it to open up and swallow her whole. 

'That's quite alright, I'm flattered!' Homelander laughs. Thankfully, before Donna can reveal any more information about Annie's personal paraphernalia, a frazzled PA descends on them--demanding that they follow her to hair and makeup. Annie--Now to be strictly referred to as Starlight--has a debut presentation with the Deep in three hours and there is an expansive amount of information she needs to be briefed on before going onstage.

As Starlight moves to follow her mother and the assistant, she feels a soft voice brush against her ear, 'You have good taste', Homelander murmurs. Starlight jumps with a start. 

'I'd be hurt--and a little upset--if I _weren't_ your favorite'.

He squeezes her shoulder, and before Starlight can turn to answer, he has already begun his departure to the elevator. He spares her a wave and a salute before stepping inside the lift. Starlight's hand brushes against her lips in a faint attempt to hide her bright smile.

It's in vain--No matter how hard she tries, she cannot stop beaming for the rest of the day. 

\----

Homelander is not blind.

He can see the way Annie looks at him. The way she's drawn to him, like a little magnet. 

He's neither moved nor surprised, at first. This behavior has been customary to him for most of his life.

Still, after excusing himself from her and her insipid mother, he makes the decision to tune his ears to listen to her ongoings for the rest of the day. Just out of a healthy curiosity for his new co-worker, he tells himself.

As she meets each member of the Seven in passing, she shows them the same admiration and bashfulness she displayed upon meeting him. 

But it is a far cry from the way she speaks about Homelander to her mother in confidence, when she thinks no one else is listening.

He truly seems to be in a league of his own. She speaks of him like he's Jesus, born again. It's been a long time since a member of the Seven has regarded him with such reverence--unhindered by sycophancy or fear. It is untainted worship, wholesome and pure. 

Regardless. This is not what catches him off guard about Annie January. 

What makes Homelander turn his head, actually listen to the words she strings together in her soft, slightly tremulous voice, is her how genuine her dedication is. The sheer immensity of how much she wants this. How far she will go to remain in the embrace of her _new family_. 

This sparks interest within the dark recesses of Homelander's mind.

Where the rest of the Seven is sloppy, lazy, washed-up and unmotivated. Starlight is pliant and malleable; still shiny and new and willing to please. She has still has time to be molded into something uniquely shaped. With the proper guidance, the proper hands molding her--she could form into something truly special. 

And who better than her hero to do so?

Homelander feels a flicker of warmth in his stomach at the thought.


	4. Anything you have in mind

When the Deep pulls down his pants with a snide smile on his face, Starlight feels a rage explode within her unlike anything she's ever experienced. She can't recall a time she has ever been this mad---this driven to use her powers to inflict pain instead of asserting protection.

She wants to burn his eyes out of his skull, watch whatever miniscule amount of grey and white matter currently occupying his cranium slide out of his eye sockets. 

She thinks of her mother, what she would say. Thinks about herself; eight years old, standing in front of her mirror and dreaming of the day she'd stand in this room and join a team that would be her family.

The rage quells into chilling fear, discouragement. She feels tears threaten to escape the corners of her eyes. She's worked so hard to get here---all for it to be dashed away, because she's being a...

' _A prude_ ', Holy Mary's voice sneers in her mind.

'You know, Einstein once said, 'In the midst of every crisis, there is an opportunity to be found' 

'Homelander--!' Deep screams, scrambling to pull his pants up. Starlight whirls around to see the golden hero's silhouette, standing motionless in a far corner of the boardroom. 

'Don't you fucking dare', Homelander's eyes blaze ruby. They're focused on the Deep's member.

'You made your bed, now sleep in it' 

The Deep's face is ashen, his hands shake at his sides. 

'Wha--'

' _Shut_ up,' Homelander growls, snapping his fingers. The sound echoes through the room. The aquatic hero immediately silences, his eyes are round with bewilderment.

Starlight has no idea how long Homelander has been there, how long he's been watching. She hadn't seen him at the presentation this evening--she expected he was carrying out an important mission. 

But he's not on a mission, he is here, watching quietly.

He is almost completely obscured by shadow--with the exclusion of his molten eyes. Starlight has never seen him use this particular power, she has only read about it. Vought is careful to only show him using his strength and powers of flight on television spots and movies. Now Starlight understands why.

It's unnerving to see him this way, his eyes lack any of their usual kind familiarity when they are red and smoldering. 

When Deep ceases all movement, hands in the air in a clear display of submission, Homelander's gaze gradually returns to its friendly blue.

He slowly emerges from the shadows to where Starlight and the Deep stand, stopping in front of Starlight and regarding her with a look of interest. 

After a moment, he seats himself in the chair at the head of the table. He leans back as casually as one might while reclining on the couch in front of their television. His movements are deliberately slow, as if he takes enjoyment from drawing out the strange feeling of fear and uncertainty that has fallen on the boardroom.

He makes no move to reprimand the Deep. For a moment, the horrific possibility of Homelander joining in on the attempted debauchery the Deep initiated crosses Starlight's mind. She pushes it away quickly; he wouldn't. He can't.

He's Homelander.

He stares at them both, hands folded neatly in his lap. No one speaks for what feels like an eternity. The room's silence is deafening. 

Starlight's heart thunders in her ears as her eyes flit from the Deep to Homelander. 

He finally breaks the silence, 'I see this as an opportunity for you, Starlight.' 

She stares at him, confusion clearly etched on her face. The events of the past 24 hours seem like a nightmare and a dream all wrapped up into one strange hallucination. She feels herself growing dizzy with perplexment and fear.

'Kill him'.

Homelander's voice sounds so calm, Starlight wonders if she's heard him right. The Deep sports an equally stunned expression, his mouth hangs open in disbelief.

'I said, kill him, Starlight.'

There is no mistaking the command this time. It rings clearly through the air like a bell.

This seems to snap the Deep out of his trance. He scrambles forward, hands outstretched pleadingly, 'Homelander, you don't understand, _she_ came onto me! She was asking for it!'

Starlight whips her head around to face him, a newfound sense of rage igniting within her. Before she can open her mouth to counter his statement, a ray of blinding red light shoots between her and the aquatic hero.

He howls in pain and crumples to the floor in a pile of convulsing limbs.

A large burn mark festers and boils on his inner thigh, dangerously close to his flaccid member. He curls into the fetal position on the marble floor, a crude string of curses flowing from his contorted lips.

Homelander's eyes still glow faintly red when he looks to Starlight, 'There, I've made it even easier for you--he's incapacitated, all trussed up and ready for the oven', he chuckles.

Starlight gazes down at Deep. His eyes are squeezed shut, arms wrapped around his legs in an attempt to stop the pain and protect his more precious extremities.

The forefront of Starlight's mind yells for her to turn and leave, _run_. Another part--deeper and quieter--chants for her to hurt him, to make him feel how she feels right now.

_It wasn't supposed to be like this._

__

__

_This isn't right._

_He ruined everything._

The voices in her head are immediately silenced when she feels a firm hand on her shoulder. 

'You would be doing the world a service, Annie.' Hearing Homelander's deep voice purr her name makes Starlight tremble with an emotion that is alien to her.

'I doubt you're the first girl he's tried this on--why should he be able to leave this room to do it again, without so much as a slap on the wrist?' Homelander's breath his warm and soft against her ear. He has crept closer while she watches the Deep writhe on the floor. He is so close that she can feel his strong chest behind her back. 

His arms snake underneath hers, holding her small hands beneath his larger ones. He flexes her fingers, poising her for attack.

'That piece of shit was going to make you suck his filthy fucking cock, like a common whore.' Starlight flinches at the obscenities, but Homelander pushes on, 'You're a member of the Seven. You shine with the light of golden providence, and he wanted to fucking tarnish that... ' 

She looks at the Deep again, expecting to feel a modicum of pity for the crying, pleading man before her. But she only feels disgust and rage...and beneath it all, the warmth of Homelander's body behind her. Strong and unwavering. 

_'Come on...'_

Starlight's mind seems to go white, the Deep's screams become a muffled noise somewhere far away. When things begin coming into focus again, the Deep is no longer screaming.

Staring at his corpse, she wills herself to feel regret but instead she feels....nothing. Only moments ago her insides felt as though they had been set ablaze with emotion, now they feel eerily still, like standing water.

Homelander still stands behind her, she can feel his breathing grow shallow as he marvels at the mess around them. The monitors and lights in the boardroom have been shattered, sapped of all of their electric power. 

He places his hands on her shoulder and turns her to him. Without the lights, she can only make out the faintest outlines of his figure and face. Despite this, she can tell he's smiling. Exuberantly.

'Good, good girl,' his voice is thick with ardor, 'You did so well, you did exactly what I asked. You obeyed.' 

His face crinkles in unadulterated joy. This smile is different from anything Starlight has seen on television or magazines. It's brighter, more genuine. 

She sways slightly, suddenly feeling lightheaded. The Deep is dead. 

Because of her.

'I killed him'.

Homeland nods. 'Yes, you killed him. You killed a member on the most powerful hero team in the world.' His voice is far from accusatory, if anything he sounds like he's in awe.

'Think about how powerful that makes you. How _weak_ that made him. Ask yourself Starlight, did he honestly deserve to call himself a hero, after what he tried to do to you?'

Starlight searches the void of darkness in front of her for any signs of scolding or reprimand. She receives neither. She is only met with darkness.

His voice sounds the same as it did on her television. Deep and warm, like burrowing further beneath the sheets on a cold morning. 

She trembles for a moment, then sags against him, wrapping her arms around his broad torso as tightly as she can. She feels so fragile that if she lets go, she fears she might disintegrate. 

She doesn't realize she's crying until Homelander pulls back and begins wiping the tears from her cheeks. 

'Shh, no no, sweetheart. This is a _good_ thing.' He coos, stroking her cheek. 'You gave him what he deserved...' He repeats this several times as he draws Starlight back to his chest, stroking her back.

'You've made me so proud tonight. Prouder than any one of the Seven has ever made me'. His lips move softly against her temple as he speaks, 'I couldn't have asked for a better addition to the team'. 

Somehow, through the deafening pounding of heart and the thunderous uproar of her racing mind, the child within Starlight's heart rejoices to hear these words. To see his eyes glow with pride and happiness--pride and happiness for _her_.

'You're going to keep making me proud, I know you will'.

Starlight leans against him, breathing heavily, and closing her eyes. As she inhales deeply, she dimly realizes Homelander smells sterile, like a hospital.

He does not smell like peppermint and cigarettes.


	5. I will be the one who loves you

Everything after Starlight's encounter with the Deep is a muddled blur. She's never used her powers that way before; It leaves her with little to no reserves. When she finally manages to come back to herself, Homelander is tucking her into a large bed. 

She dimly recognizes the spacious room to be her new quarters. The idea of sleeping here no longer excites her in the same way it did twenty-four hours ago...

As he's rearranging her pillow, Homelander notices she's awake and fixes her with a small smile.

'Get some sleep...you had a big day, kiddo.’ He murmurs these words in a tone that makes it sound as though she's competed in a softball tournament instead of committed manslaughter. 

Images of the Deep's twitching corpse flash behind her eyes, making Starlight whimper.

'What about--'

'I've taken care of it', Homelander assures. He gives her shoulder a squeeze, then rises to depart. 

The idea of spending the night alone with her thoughts, in this large, strange room makes Starlight's throat tighten with panic.

It's too big, too unfamiliar. There are no posters, no pictures. The only thing of familiarity is Homelander.

She reaches out, groping frantically in the darkness. Her hand catches onto his cape just as it is about to whip out of reach.

'Please', she strains. 'Please stay'.

For the first time--in the brief amount that Starlight has known him--Homelander looks confused. He glances around, as if he expects Donna January to barge through the door, demanding to know what he's doing in here with her daughter.

But then he smiles.

It's a strange smile, not genuine like the one in the boardroom. There is something unnerving lingering beneath the surface. Starlight takes no notice, too preoccupied with worry that he'll leave.

Finally, to her immense relief, he nods, gently unfisting her hand from his cape and moving to sit atop the covers.

She utters a weak, 'thank you', before curling onto her side.

They sit in silence for a few moments.

Starlight squirms to get comfortable beneath the sheets. She desperately wants nothing more than to go to sleep, to put this day behind her forever, but no matter how she positions herself, she cannot seem to get comfortable. After a tedious period of situating and resituating she realizes what's missing.

The space under her arm is uncomfortably empty.

She's too exhausted to get up and dig her Kuddle Buddy out of her suitcase, but she cannot will herself to fall asleep without the familiar weight of it beneath her arm, pressed against her chest. She internally curses her own immature hinderances. 

Throwing caution to the wind, she tentatively reaches for Homelander's hand and draws it near her heart. 

Homelander stiffens beneath her touch, but makes no move to retract his fist from her chest. Then, very slowly, his fingers uncurl and he splays his palm over her sternum. 

It takes Starlight mere seconds to fall asleep, the events of the day weighing heavily on her body and mind.

Gaze locked on her sleeping form, Homelander's thumb begins to idly stroke back and forth across her collar bone.

His eyes glow in the dark as he watches the steady rise and fall of her chest.

A growing hunger roils in their blue depths.

\----

Visions of lifeless, aquamarine eyes swim through Starlight's mind. The smell of charred skin makes her choke. Howls of pain and misery blare so loudly in her head that she has to claw at her ears to stifle them.

She jolts awake with a start, crying out in terror. Twisting in soft bed sheets, she shakes her head in a vain attempt to clear the disturbing images from her behind her eyes. 

Then, in the midst of her panic, a heavy hand stills her, gently pressing her back into a soft mass of pillows. 

Starlight dazedly looks up to see Homelander staring down at her. His eyes are bright and alert, roaming over her with what appears to be concern. 

'Y-You... stayed?' 

'You asked me to.'

Starlight suddenly feels a pang of embarrassment in her gut ; She had acted like a frightened child--not a hero. She could have very well braved the night alone.

Her body says otherwise--hands still trembling from the last vestiges of her nightmare. 

The thought of Homelander staying awake all night, watching over her, makes Starlight feel weak with guilt. He's busy enough as is--babysitting her is the last addition he needed to his agenda. She twists her hands in her bedsheets and looks down. 

'You slept in quite a bit,' he glances out the large window wrapping around the room. The sun gleams over skyscrapers, reflecting in his blue eyes, turning them silver. 'I didn't want to wake you, but we have a meeting to attend. The rest of the team is waiting on us.' 

Starlight barely hears him.

The team?

Had Homelander told the rest of the Seven what had happened? Had he told their superiors? What would happen now? Would she be kicked off the team? Incarcerated?

'Hey,' Two strong fingers curl under her chin, effectively forcing her to resurface from her thoughts and look into Homelander's gaze. 

'Don't worry. I took care of it, like I said I would'. 

'Okay?' His deep voice steadies her. 

Starlight exhales shakily and nods. 'Okay.'

'Okay.' Homelander repeats playfully, eyes crinkling as he smiles down at her.

It's such a kind, warm expression that Starlight cannot help herself. The gratitude and affection she feels for him bubbles to the surface and before she knows what she's doing, her arms are wrapped around the other hero's neck in a loose embrace. 

'Thank you. For staying with me. For... for everything'. 

Homelander doesn't respond right away, remaining still and silent in her arms. 

Starlight feels her stomach clench; had she crossed a line? Was this unprofessional behavior? 

As she begins to pull back Homelander's arms snake around her waist and he's suddenly pulling her closer. So close that their chests press and she can feel his strong heartbeat against her own. 

It makes her anxieties drift somewhere far away. 

Homelander is here. 

He'll protect her--like he always said he would.

He hugs her tightly, drawing his face close enough so she can smell Listerine on his warm breath.

'You're more than welcome, Starlight.'

'I'd be happy to do it again, anytime you need'. He winks with a waggish grin and stands, 'I'll walk you to the boardroom...' 

\----

True to his word, Homelander _does_ take care of it. 

When Starlight emerges from her quarters, she instantly notices the lack of change within the building's atmosphere. Life in Seven Tower proceeds on as if nothing has happened.

Vought continues thundering forward like a leviathan machine; one cog has been lost, but the mechanism powers on. 

Deep's untimely death is mentioned once on a news show-- some vague cover-up about him meeting the same death as several of the manatees he advocated for; brutally sucked into the propellers of a freight boat. Homelander takes pride in letting Starlight know that he was the one who conjured up the fabricated story. 

Starlight herself tries not to look at the numerous television screens lining the hallway's walls--As the news plays, pictures of the Deep flash onscreen. His eyes seem to follow her as she brushes by. 

She averts her gaze, trailing after Homelander like a duckling. It is mildly comforting to walk behind his large frame--as if he's shielding her from those staticky, turquoise eyes.

Her stomach ties itself in knots as they get closer to the boardroom.

She doesn't want to go back in there. It's too soon.

She stops in her tracks, panic paralyzing her limbs.

Homelander, noticing his little shadow is no longer behind him, stops too, turning to look at her with a questioningly quirked brow

After studying her pallid face, he wordlessly holds a gloved hand out, opening and closing it impatiently.

Starlight blinks, and then feels warm relief wash over her. She hurries forward and grasps his hand tightly in hers. Holding it, she feels lighter ; dragging her feet a little less as they walk on.

When they reach the boardroom Homelander smiles at her, gently slipping his hand from hers.

'It'll be fine. The only thing you have to worry about is falling asleep ', he jests, ushering her through the large doors.

Starlight manages a crooked smile and nods. She hopes he's right. 

\----

Staying focused proves to be a harder task than Starlight initially expected. The empty seat between Maeve and A-Train makes her stomach turn. She tries her best to avoid looking at it for the duration of the meeting.

Said meeting is held to simply inform the Seven that they will be given a day off from their 'heroic duties', allowing them to process their grief individually.

The only issue is, none of the team seems to be showing any signs of grievance. 

Starlight seems to be the only person who has given the Deep a second thought. 

Throughout the meeting, she finds her eyes being drawn back to her hands, staring at them and wondering how they managed to take a life so callously.

She tries to remind herself that the Deep deserved to meet the end that he did. That what she did was right. This is what Homelander had murmured to her on their way to the boardroom. He reminded her that the Deep was bad, and she was good and that this is what heroes do--They take care of the bad. 

He explained that she outranks a regular human's judgement. She knows better. 

And Homelander, outranking all Supes, knows **best**. 

Starlight is promptly brought back to the present by the sounds of the team's general dispersal. Was the meeting over?

She rises from her seat and looks around, noticing that Homelander has already left. In his absence, she suddenly feels very lost--out of place.

She catches Ashley before the red-head can slip out the door. The assistant pauses her conversation with whoever is on the other line of her Bluetooth and turns around, 'Yes?'

When Starlight asks what she should do today, Ashley fixes her with a tight smile that suggests _she_ does not get the luxury of free time, and the fact that Starlight even asked her this question is in poor taste. 

In what is clearly an attempt to get Starlight to leave her alone, she suggests that the young hero explores the city. With that, she resumes her conversation and leaves.

Now alone in the boardroom, Starlight feels cold, discomfort creeping low in her stomach. Her eyes unbiddenly wander to the spot where it happened.

Before she can allow her gaze to linger, she hurries out of the room. The more distance she puts between her and that spot, the better she'll feel.

Perhaps Ashley is right...perhaps a day in the city _is_ what she needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIVE! Family visiting for the holidays kept me off my laptop, but here I am, back again (like a bad rash). 
> 
> Next chapter will partially be in Homelander's POV... ;) Stay tuned.


	6. 'Til the end of time

Starlight, having changed into her casual-wear, taps a sneaker clad foot as she waits for the elevator to take her to the Tower's lobby.

She chews her bottom lip, wondering where to venture first.

The city is so expansive--it seems impossible that she'll ever become accustomed to it in the same way she was towards the confines of Des Moines.

She supposes Vought Square is as good a place to start as any...

Lost in her own thoughts, she does not notice Homelander spy her from down the hall. He leaves the PA he is talking to mid-sentence in favor of silently sauntering behind the younger hero.

'Well now. Who's this?'

She starts at the sound of his voice, hurriedly smoothing down fly-away strands of hair that have escaped from her ponytail.

'Hello, Homelander--sir.'

After ruminating on the events of this morning, Starlight is determined for the captain to see her as competent team-mate--not the simpering child that needed her hand held.

Homelander eyes her clothes with interest. He grasps her shoulders, holding her at arm's length and screwing one eye shut playfully.

'Hmmm...this can't be Starlight...'

Starlight begins to feel self conscious about her attire; her pink hoodie and worn jeans suddenly seem very juvenile under Homelander's gaze.

'Your secret identity, 'Annie', right?'

She nods, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. She'll never get used to the way her name sounds in his deep baritone. It makes her chest grow warm with emotions she's too sheepish to scrutinize.

'Charming', he squeezes her shoulder and then finally lets go. The elevator opens and Starlight temporarily forgets where she was going--what she was initially doing.

Homelander holds the doors open with an arm and gestures forward , 'After you'.

After she stutters a 'thank you' and skirts inside, Starlight is surprised to see Homelander follow her into the lift. Perhaps he's going out today too.

'What floor, kiddo?'

'Oh, um--ground, please.'

Homelander tilts his head, pausing for a moment as if he thinks he misheard her.

'Going somewhere?' he presses the 'G' button with a deliberate slowness. The elevator doors slide shut and they begin their gradual descent.

'I was going to check out the city, maybe find somewhere to eat...' Starlight ponders, '...Probably call my mom--I think she might be worried; I haven't called her in a day.' 

She smiles ruefully, scuffing the ground with the toe of her shoe. She briefly considers asking Homelander if he'd like to join her on her excursion, but decides against it. 

She's bothered him enough for one day.

Homelander nods once but remains silent for the rest of the ride down. Starlight takes no notice-- enjoying the comfortable silence and his mere presence-- but there is evident air of discomfort beneath his neutral demeanor. His jaw tightens as they near the ground floor.

The elevator dings and she exits the lift, waving over her shoulder, 'See you later, sir!'

Homelander simply smiles. His eyes linger on her small form as it disappears out the doors of the Tower.

\----

The city is overwhelming--to say the least.

It's deafeningly loud, swarming with people pushing and shoving. Everywhere Starlight looks, she finds herself face to face with bright LED displays picturing members of the Seven. Some of them even featuring her.

She ducks her head, briskly walking away from Vought Square and all of its booming glory.

Spotting a park, she sighs in relief; Finally, something vaguely familiar.

She strides towards it with the same enthusiasm a wanderer has upon finding an oasis. It's a mere green dot amidst a sea of grey, but Starlight is thankful for it all the same.

Finding an empty bench, she sits and exhales loudly. The fresh air and open space clears her mind, instantly relieving her of the tension she's been carrying all morning.

Being out of the Tower and the city's bustle allows her a moment to simply relax.

Her peace is subsequently broken by the sensation of the bench dipping and creaking under additional weight.

A young man with curly brown hair sits beside her. Noticing her startled expression, he holds up a hand--the one that isn't clenched around a sandwich--in a sign of apology.

'Sorry, do you mind?'

Starlight slowly shakes her head, 'No, not at all--actually--' she pauses, smiling shyly, 'I'd appreciate the company'.

And that is how Starlight finds herself sitting beside Hughie Campbell.

Hughie is not like any of the boys Starlight knew back home--he doesn't know about her powers, and yet...he still seems interested in talking to her.

 _Her_. 

Annie, not 'Starlight'.

It seems inconceivable that anyone would find the real her interesting, but Hughie seems engrossed in all that she has to say. They talk about Iowa, Hughie's job at the RadioShack and even find common-ground with their equally overbearing single parents.

As she sits beside this perfect stranger, laughing and simply talking well into the afternoon, Starlight feels a modicum of normalcy for the first time in what feels like an eternity.

She leaves the park with Hughie's phone number and a smile on her face. She does not notice the blue speck in the sky, hovering over the park.

\----

Homelander cannot fathom why he cares this much. Why he's so bothered by the spectacle in the park beneath him.

Why he has to resist the urge to laser 'Hughie's' head from his body.

_Hughie._

What a pathetic excuse for a man.

Even by human standards he's unremarkable; thin, scrawny--lacking any features that would cause Homelander to feel the slightest bit threatened.

But he makes her laugh.

Something about that makes Homelander's hackles raise. 

When Starlight grips Hughie's shoulder for balance after laughing particularly hard at one of his inane jokes, Homelander clenches his fists hard enough to make the leather of his gloves creak.

Listening to the pair of them prattle on about their lives had makes the hero resent his own super hearing. And yet....he can't bring himself to simply fly away from their grating conversation.

He remains stagnant in the sky. Watching. Listening. 

When Starlight rises to depart and the boy makes no move to follow her, Homelander exhales as if he's been holding his breath for hours. Although he would have had no reservations towards snapping the meddlesome runt's neck, Homelander knows it would serve as upsetting to Starlight. 

She still has an asinine connection to humans.

She'll grow out of it with time, but It wouldn't do Homelander well to push her before she's ready. He knows the damage that can cause...

He glances down at the small shape of her, slowly making it's way back to Vought Square.

The little minx...flaunting herself around like this; like she knows he's watching. Is she trying to drive him mad? First catching the Deep's attention, now this...glorified ape's.

He's only had Starlight in his orbit for a few days and yet--the thought of her drifting off, placing her admiration and adoration in someone else, makes his insides boil with rage.

And how he had relished the feeling of her curled around his palm last night. Breathing so softly against his knuckles. He had barely managed to resist the urge to let his hand wander, held back by the possibility of her waking up and staring at him with those infuriatingly innocent eyes.

He growls under his breath and makes a beeline back to Seven Tower.

It's time to dig.

\----

Homelander has always enjoyed rooting up information.

Scrupulously searching and ferreting out the most finite, private details regarding those around him. With thorough examination, everything becomes transparent and clear.

Just how he likes it.

Homelander reads Annie's file front to back again and again; until he knows every part of her childhood and her life leading up to Vought by heart.

He reads it obsessively, until he can close his eyes and picture Starlight In Iowa, in her yard; beads of sweat dripping down her body as she trains each day. Lying in bed, sore muscles aching, tired legs throbbing, dreaming of the day she can stand next to him.

Revel in his presence.

When he finally opens his eyes, Starlight is there, in the boardroom. Standing right before him. Dark eyes round and unblinking--Unnervingly sweet.

It makes his gut twist with an aggressive emotion and can't quite place.

Guilt? No, Homelander doesn't feel guilt. He trusts his instincts. He chases what he wants and doesn't question if he 'should' or 'shouldn't'.

Disgust? That's not it. Homelander has never felt the twinge of cold awareness that might lead to introspection. . He's above something as mortal as disgust at his own actions.

Want?...

There it is. _This_ is what he feels when he looks into Starlight's cherubic little face.

Want... warm and syrupy, collecting in the base of his stomach.

 _What_ does he want though? He can't quite say yet. All he knows is that he doesn't want those round, affectionate eyes appraising anyone else.

'You wanted to meet with me, sir?' Her voice is guarded. She clearly thinks she's in some sort of trouble--having been called to meet with him alone.

Homelander briefly toys with the idea of acting stern, drawing out the delicious sense of trepidation she's exuding-- if only to see her lip quiver the way it does right before she cries.

He decides against it; there will be time for that later.

'Starlight, there's no need for formalities--we're all family here.'

She smiles at this, her tense demeanor slowly melting away. Nodding, she seats herself in the chair beside Homelander.

'Now,' he clasps his hands in his lap, 'I was hoping we could talk a little bit about your upbringing--life before Vought, as it were'.

Starlight's eyebrows knit together in momentary confusion. 'Oh...well, I--um.' She pauses, clearly perplexed by the question.

'There's really not much to tell ; I was born in Des Moines. My mom raised me. Took me to Supe-Pageants, sports eve-'

'No father?'

Starlight's mouth twists into a frown, instantly she's uncomfortable again--retreating back into herself. She shrugs, evading his gaze and looking down at her sneakers.

'He was there...until he wasn't'

Homelander watches her dejectedness with calculated interest.

'I'm sorry to hear that, Starlight. I personally consider the father to be the quintessential centerpiece to any family.' He rises from his seat, walking to the window overlooking the city. He can make out the park from here.

'That being said... I consider myself to be somewhat of a father to this team. Would you say that sentiment is apt, Starlight?'

She blinks, and then nods quickly. 'Yes, sir--I mean, Homelander. I...' she chews her lip, thinking. After a split second of reluctance , she concedes--'I always thought of you as a father figure, growing up'.

Homelander knows.

Oh yes, he knows.

When he came across that delicious little morsel of information he had practically purred. _'No prominent father'_. As his eyes roamed over those three typed words, everything fell into place. The constant need for reassurance, the desperation for his approval.

Here he thought Starlight's infatuation with him merely stemmed from a simple case of hero worship--but no, it's so much sweeter than that.

He hums, still staring at the park. Then finally, he turns around to face her. 'That boy....Hughie'.

Starlight's confusion returns with fervor. She opens her mouth to pose the obvious question, how did Homelander know about him? But before she can ask, he holds up a gloved hand--indicating he wants her silence.

'It's a father's job to look out for their own. Yours neglected to inform you about things like this so I'll take it upon myself to educate you...' his voice is calm and even, betraying none of the dark satisfaction he's taking from this exchange. 

'Boys are all the same, Starlight--they only want one thing, and as soon as they get it, they'll leave you; soiled and cast aside. Like trash.'

Starlight looks completely taken aback. Her mouth hangs open, eyes unfocused with bewilderment. Before she can fully process what Homelander is implying, the older hero begins again,

' _I'm_ looking out for you Starlight. ' He gestures towards the spot where the Deep's attempted abuse took place, 'Haven't I done a good job, thus far? Don't you trust my judgment?'

The mention of the dead hero makes Starlight flinch, but she nods jerkily.

'O-of course, sir--Homelander', She rubs her forehead, staring past him, out the window. 'It's just--Hughie didn't seem like the Deep at all. He seemed--

'Looks are only looks' Homelander murmurs, watching her obvious conflict with pleasure. 'He might've _looked_ upstanding, but beneath the surface, all boys are animals. Slavering after sweet things like you...'

Starlight is too consumed with her own emotions to take notice of the change in Homelander's tone, descending from concerned to hungry. 

Her head hangs low, dark lashes downcast and gradually growing wet with unshed tears.

'I'm sure the Deep wasn't the first degenerate to try to debauch you. Boys back in Iowa were probably sniffing around you like it was their job. 

Starlight's face reddens, tears now fall freely from here eyes.

Homelander can tell he's on the right trail, he digs deeper. 

'First it's a peck on the cheek, and then before you know it, his hands start wandering...'

The younger blonde's hands slowly draw up to her ears, in a vain attempt to stop unpleasant memories from flooding her mind.

'Oh Starlight...You're young--you don't know any better.' Homelander's voice mellows into a warm, paternal tone. The kind he uses on television spots for children, 'But I do.' 

She cant bring herself to look up at him, the embarrassment is too great.

She shakily reaches into her jean's pocket and pulls out the small scrap of paper Hughie had penned his number on. She swallows thickly as she looks down at the digits. 

They become blurry as her tears drop onto the scrawled ink.

Homelander eyes the scrap of paper like it's a lethal weapon. 

He outstretches a hand, a silent demand. 

Starlight watches as he tears it in half, dropping the littered pieces on the ground and pointedly stepping on them as he walks towards her, kneeling between her knees. He dips his head low to try to meet her eyes.

'I know this hurts to hear, but it's important that you don't give yourself to the first boy who comes knocking. You're much too special for that.

'Bide your time, wait for a man--not a boy.' He gently holds her hands in his, stroking over the backs of them with his thumbs. 'Hm?' he presses, unwilling to let her mull this over in her head, urging her to agree with him. 

_Forget him. Leave him behind. Look at me. Only me._

She sniffs and nods, slowly and then more resolutely as he continues his ministrations. Then, finally, she looks up at him, expression raw and vulnerable. 

Homelander feels his blood sing with desire at the sight.

Yes. this is how it should be; Looking to Homelander for reassurance. Not some boy on a bench.

'Nothing’s the way I thought it’d be...,' she hiccups, swiping a hand over her cheek. It's an exercise in futility, more tears follow suite. 

Homelander watches fat droplets rolls down her soft cheeks. He wants to lap them up, store them sweetly deep in his belly.

He wants every part of Starlight for himself.

Her tears, her laughter, her reverence. All his.

'Oh, sweetheart...' the endearment falls from his lips as naturally as her name, 'What about me?' 

He pulls one of her hands out of her lap and gently lays it on his own cheek. He holds it there, internally relishing the skin on skin contact. 

The corners of Starlight's mouth lift ever so slightly at the pet-name. She bites her lip in that saccharinely sweet way that makes Homelander want to bend her over the boardroom table.

Then, very gently, almost imperceptibly, she strokes his cheek.

Homelander's insides seem to melt. He has to clench his jaw to keep his eyes from from rolling back, to stop himself from groaning like the beast that he is. 

She finally nods, her small smile blooming weakly after a shower of tears.

'I know you were excited to spend more time with him, but I've got a better idea--'he draws her hand to his lips, murmuring softly against her fingers, 'why not spend the rest of the day with me?

Starlight's watery gaze immediately flies to his. Her distress turns to wonder almost instantly, 'R-really?' 

The idea of Homelander spending time with her--his own time, not a mandatory mission--is clearly unbelievable to the younger hero. 

He can hear her heart thunder at the prospect.

He smiles casually, intent on not letting it show that he's equally as excited by the idea of being alone with her. Having her all to himself...

'At your service...where shall we go?'


	7. If you are the desert

They reach Harbour Island in a matter of minutes.

When Homelander initially tells her they will be flying to the location she picked, Starlight's eyes practically glow with excitement. 

Her breath catches in wonder as they soar up and over the city. Homelander flies slower than he normally would, careful to account for the fact Starlight is not used to the sensation of flight and probably wouldn't be able to handle the experience of breaking the sound barrier.

He convinces himself this is the reason he flies so slowly, and not because he wants to prolong the sensation of her body flush against his.

When they land, Starlight tears out of his embrace , running around on the shore and exclaiming in disbelief.

'It's actually pink!' She screams from afar, her wonder from flying seemingly forgotten. Now she's fully enamored with the beach. She squeals at the sight of the pink sand, shucking off her hoodie and bounding away.

Homelander watches from beneath a palm tree as Starlight proceeds to tumble along the shoreline, kicking up sand and laughing with unfettered joy. 

She scoops up a handful and marvels at it as if her palms contain pure magic. 

The older hero remains in the shade, settling himself in a seated position--careful to fold his cape in his lap ; so as not to get sand on it.

He isn't overly fond of beaches. Not even ones with pink sand.

When he divulges this information to Starlight--who scampers back to him grinning wildly, blotches of pink smattering her (formerly white) t-shirt--her bright disposition dims slightly.

'Why not?'

Before he can answer, Starlight is jostling him about, tugging at his boots with a surprising amount of strength.

She wrenches both off, throwing them out of sight and smiling brilliantly. 

'There ! Now dig your toes in--' she demonstrates, her own delicate extremities burying themselves into the sand like little coquinas.

Homelander stares at his own feet blankly. They're pale; he can't remember the last time he was barefoot outside. He doesn't like looking at them. He'd much prefer to look at the shiny red veneer of his boots--which are now lying somewhere in the ocean, he presumes.

He digs his feet into the sand. Only to hide them from view--not because Starlight told him to.

'Isn't that better?'

Homelander frowns, contemplating if he wants to continue to pout about his lost boots--but then he looks at Starlight's dark gaze and it's like he's sinking into two pools of molasses. He seems to struggle in slow motion, dragged beneath cloyingly sweet depths. 

His mouth feels very dry.

After a moment, he manages a curt nod.

'I told you~!' she sings, collapsing on the sand in front of him. 

He watches, entranced, as her hands trace nebulous shapes into the sand. 'Back in Iowa, I read about this beach so many times--I can't believe I finally get to see it. With you!' She beams, digging her hands into the ground's pink depths.

'...Can I bury you?'

Homelander snaps out of his trance, staring at her with indignation. The thought of not only ruining his suit with this irritatingly ubiquitous pink sand, but also baring himself to Starlight in the process makes him recoil. The suit doesn't come off. He makes it a point to keep it on--even when entertaining those of the fairer sex.

The word 'no' is already on his lips but it dies as soon as Starlight wraps her arms around his neck, kneeling between his splayed legs. After their flight here, she seems much more comfortable touching him, all traces of hesitance and bashfulness lost in the clouds.

Her skinny limbs wind around him as if she's known him for her entire life. He supposes she has, in the same cursory way the entire world 'knows' him. 

But she's not like the rest of the world. She's...strangely different. He can't decide what to do with this angel who has fallen into his lap. 

_Corruption doesn't seem like a bad idea._

He forgets what she was initially pleading for, caught up in his own depraved thoughts.

'Please?' she whines, eyebrows draw together beseechingly.

In that moment, Starlight could have asked him to hold his head underwater until he drowned and he would have happily agreed.

Homelander shifts in her grasp, his hands seeming to move on their own accord. He slowly unzips his suit, taking great care to exaggerate his unenthusiasm.

When he's down to his boxers he waits. Waits for her to make a comment about how he lacks the physique his suit provides. He's toned beneath the padding and faux muscle , but nowhere near as broad and burly as the suit makes him out to be. 

Starlight's eyes do linger for an instant, but her expression is one of mesmerism, not judgement. Her small, pink tongue darts out to wet her lips. Homelander suddenly realizes that he could have a body like a starving leper and she would still find herself drawn to him. He smiles smugly at the revelation.

He gestures to himself with dramatic exasperation.

'Go ahead...'

Starlight claps, setting to work immediately. 

She takes her time burying him, spreading handfuls of sand over his legs, arms and torso with great care. The way her small hands move over him stirs heat deep within Homelander's stomach.

Lying back, he can admire the dip of her collarbone, the delicate curve of her neck. He wants to sink his teeth into it.

He decides he might like beaches. 

When she's finished, she traces patterns in the sand on his chest, stars and hearts; An H, an A and the number seven.

When she starts crafting what looks like Vought Tower on his chest, he decides he can no longer sit still. Homelander twitches beneath the sand, and then erupts--roaring playfully and tackling her. 

'You ruined it!' She shrieks and giggles beneath him, wriggling against his body, 'Let go!' 

'No.' The sensation of her small fists pounding onto his chest only excites him more. He's practically panting above her writhing form.

He bites back a groan when she rolls onto her stomach, backside effectively grinding against his crotch. He bucks against her as subtly as he can, chasing after the addictive friction her ass provides. He can't seem to control himself, huffing like a dog, hips moving fervently.

Starlight seems none the wiser, still giggling and trying to claw her way out of his grip.

She suddenly pushes back against him with a considerable amount of force in an attempt to throw him off of her back and escape. Homelander chokes a grunt back when he comes spontaneously, right there and then. Her shorts are so thin, he hopes she cant feel the liquid heat that fills up his boxers. He stifles his moan with a cough, feigning a loss of breath.

As she turns onto her back to see if he's alright, Homelander quickly hoists her into his arms, careful not to give her an opportunity to spy the large wet patch on the front of his boxers. He strides towards the ocean purposefully.

She yelps in surprise, 'What are you doing!'

'I'm covered in pink sand'--

 _and come_ , he thinks mutely

'--because of you--now you have to wash me off.'

He'll look for any excuse to have those hands on him again. So small and delicate. He wants more. Needs more

Starlight's laughter ceases, she begins scrambling against him in earnest. 'Homelander--no, I can't.'

'Don't like cleaning up your messes? You naughty little brat...' he breathes against her ear. He wades into the ocean until his hips are submerged, gripping Starlight tightly so she cannot dash back to shore.

'No-no I can't--' her hands scrabble for purchase on his shoulders. When he begins to lower her into the water she gasps, clambering back into his arms and shaking her head, 'I cant' swim!'

'What?'

Her limbs wrap around his shoulder and waist tightly, crushing her frame against his. Despite the fact he just spent himself, Homelander feels himself growing hard again.

He has to marvel at the effect Starlight has on his body. 

'Really...?'

She's clearly embarrassed by the admission, her face burying itself into his neck. 'There aren't a lot of beaches in landlocked Iowa', she mumbles with meek haughtiness. 

Homelander dandles her in his arms, one hand firmly beneath her bottom, the other curled around her waist.

He holds her close, relishing in the fact that she needs him. She can't get back to shore--to safety--without him. _She needs him._

'That's alright, I won't let you sink', he murmurs, cuddling her under the guise of comfort. He greatly enjoys the sensation of her breasts pressing against his bare chest.

He wades around in the cool water, occasionally reaching down in the depths to catch a floating shell. He hands them to Starlight, who still holds fast to him, but accepts the gifts with childish awe.

The sun beats down on them from above and seems to make the younger hero sleepy, she hesitantly leans her head on his clavicle, arms loosely wrapped around his neck. 

When they return to shore to lie back and dry off, she falls asleep almost instantly, basking in the warmth that the afternoon sun provides. Homelander bunches his suit up into a makeshift pillow and gently places it beneath her head; no longer concerned if it gets covered sand. 

He is careful not to wake Starlight when he settles beside her. As he lies next to her, he cannot stop his eyes from lingering over her body. Thoroughly soaked, her white shirt is transparent . 

He resists the urge to palm himself outright at the sight, instead resigning himself to watching her breasts rise and fall slowly with each soft breath she takes. He clenches his fists to stop himself from reaching out.

They're a considerable size, smaller than the women's he usually entertains, but still no less fascinating to him. He could fit them in his palm. The idea makes his blood rush from his head to his groin. 

She's so small, so easily guided-- _could be so easily broken._

He swallows thickly and turns his head so he stares at the blue sky. 

He decides he likes beaches **_very_** much.


End file.
